Dancing Winds
by etcetera-cat
Summary: Halliran is a Silver Gryphon scout with a problem: A storm has blown herself and her partner off the top of their map and they are stranded in an entirely bizarre forest. If that isn't bad enough, the locals appear to be her Clan's long lost cousins...
1. In Which a Gryphon Glares at a Teleson

**Disclaimer:**  The concepts and ideas relating to the world of Velgarth, such as Heralds, Companions, Tayledras, the Haighli Empire, the city of White Gryphon, The Pelagirs and the kingdoms of Valdemar, Karse _et al_ are the sole property of the author Mercedes Lackey.  I'm not her, I'm me and as such it follows, that I'm just loosing control of my imagination.  Again.

**Dancing Winds.**

  "Thisss," I wave one fore claw around myself to illustrate my point, "isss why the wilderrnesss iisss called ssuch."  The scenery in question ignores me totally and continues practicing perfecting the arts of being gloomy and impenetrable. 

  "Hmmm…" Fallingstar isn't paying the blindest bit of attention to me; as is evidenced by the fact that everything I have said for the past quarter mark has been met with a non-committal grunt.  I suppose he has an excuse— what with trying to get our campfire going and all— but still!  I'm a gryphon; we can't be ousted out of the limelight by a pile of twigs!

  I shift myself slightly, settling my weight more evenly on my haunches, before staring back out beyond our camp perimeter at the gloomy forest beyond.  I've already eaten— whilst Fallingstar was setting up the two-person tent that is currently acting as our home I went hunting and managed to bag one of the leaping-deer that the Haighli call 'gazelles'.  The Scoutmaster, a Haighli man called Sherlomis, had always taught us that gazelles rarely entered the forests, and if they did it was generally at the edges only.  I guess the gazelle I found discovered why you don't go into the forest.

  A crackling sound and the smell of wood smoke brings my attention back to Fallingstar and the campfire, in time to see him coaxing it into feeding off larger twigs and then branches, until it is finally burning merrily and throwing out a circle of light and heat.  Once he is sure it is going, my partner scout skewers himself thin strips of the gazelle steak that I saved for him and begins to cook them over the fire.

  Juice drips from the meat into the fire, causing it to spit and hiss and I shuffle backwards slightly.  As nice as the warmth from the fire is, feathers _are_ flammable and turning up back at White Gryphon little more than a week after leaving it with a distinct 'crispy' theme is _not_ on this gryphon's list of things to do… besides, we have other problems at the moment.

  "What were you saying before Halli?"  Fallingstar looks over the fire to me, the red and orange glow catching highlights on his dark brown hair.

  "Ohhh… paying attenssstion to me now?"  I tease him good naturedly, gaping my charcoal coloured beak slightly in a grin.

  In keeping with our long tradition of good-natured bickering that makes up a good part of our friendship, Fallingstar claps one hand to his chest and poses dramatically.  "As if I could ever ignore a gryphon so lovely and graceful as _you_ Halliran, especially since you caught my dinner for me!"

  "Ass it ssshould be."  I draw myself upwards and preen briefly.  "Ssso, oh masssterrr flatterrrerr, arrre we wherrre yourrr mapsss ssay we ssshould be?"

  "Pass me the bag, silly bird, and I'll tell you."  The Kaled'a'in scout indicates the canvas and leather pack next to me serenely and continues to chew on his gazelle meat skewer.

  "Tchh."  I rummage in the pack, fumbling the ties slightly with my talons before managing to extract the waterproof and rigid tube that holds the maps for our expedition.  A quick flick of my beak removes the stopper from one end and I carefully extract the rolled wax treated vellum with one gentle claw.  Whilst not being a full gryfalcon, I am possessed of far more hand like fore claws than a truly hawk-type gryphon, as well as having more pointed wings than some of my brethren.

  The wonders of evolution in White Gryphon, I guess.

  "You have grrreasssy fingerrss," I admonish my partner soundly before stepping around the campfire and settling next to Fallingstar, spreading the relevant map out on a dry patch of ground, "you _know_ what Dassva would ssay about fingerrr marks on one of the mapsss."  That last turns into a trilling chuckle as I eye Fallingstar sideways.

  He responds by groaning and flinging the wooden skewer, now empty, into the campfire.  "Gods," he rolls his eyes expressively, "don't remind me!  One telling off courtesy of Dasva about equipment maintenance was more than enough!" 

  The pair of us fall into silence as we glumly survey the inked and waxed map lying in front of us.  My tail flicks restlessly as I survey the surrounding areas as Fallingstar uses his fingers to roughly measure off distances.

  "How far do you think that wind storm took us?"  He finally asks me, turning dark eyes to look at me.

  I snort and shrug.  "I don't know anything exscept that it blussterred uss norrth."  I admit slowly.

  "Hmm," he looks back down at the map and frowns.

  You see; we are a pair of Silvers with a problem.  We were _supposed_ to be relieving the pair of scouts at the northern Outpost eleven, and we were in fact on our way there when a completely unexpected and vicious storm blew up and proceeded to tumble myself and the carry-basket holding Fallingstar and all our supplies about most of the sky for a fair part of the rest of the day.  It was all this poor gryphon could do to tell up from down and I damn near wrenched my wings off trying to keep the pair of us alive.

  All far too much excitement to be having with really.

  When the storm finally blew itself out, I found myself sort of flying low over a thick forest that resembled the Great Forests around White Gryphon, but much more northern seeming.  That was all I managed to notice, apart from this stream-bordered clearing that we are now camped in which I messily landed in and then pretty much collapsed for a while.

  When I  came around, it was to find Fallingstar just returning to that land of the living, half hanging out of the carry basket.  The pair of us managed to produce a sketchy shelter for the first night and simply slept.  Luckily, this wilderness that we've ended up in doesn't seem to share our home wilderness' trait of chucking it down with rain every day so we didn't up as a pair of drowned rats.

  Which brings us to this morning, when I decided to go out hunting and left Fallingstar to partly set up a proper camp.

  I sigh fitfully and stare upwards at the strange tree canopy far above, pupils contracting as the sun glitters between the leaves.  "I sshall trrry the telesson."  I announce finally, gaining another distracted mumble from He Who Grunts who is still pouring over his maps.  Now he has gained a pair of compasses and is measuring more distances off.  If you haven't gathered yet; Fallingstar is a bit of a geographically minded person and loves his maps.

  I get to my feet and nudge the tent flap aside to wander inside, the camouflaged canvas around me is patterned with a jigsaw of sunlight and shade, which I mainly ignore as I fix my attention on the current bane of my existence.  The bane of my existence apart from unexpected storms, that is.

  We actually have three telesons— two are the blackened copper headsets that all Silvers use to boost Mindspeech between scout partners when one has the Gift.  One is mine, gryphon sized and currently hanging from one of the stiff rope crossbars that forms the roof of the tent, and Fallingstar's smaller one is poking out of the top of one of his travel packs.  The third is a smallish box made of dark matte polished wood which has a large polished crystal nested in it, surrounded by patterned strips of beaten copper and bronze.  The detachable view-lens that allows non-Mindspeakers to use vocal speech if they wish.  This is our long-distance teleson— the one used to communicate with other scouts or with White Gryphon itself.  It is also broken.

  I fix another sour glare at the damnable pile of junk and rumble my disapproval as I poke it with one fore claw.  Being an approximately Master-class mage means that I can charge and drain telesons, but I can't make them.  Not long-distance ones at any rate; and complete re-making is what this one needs.

  _Ancestors throw it all in the sea!_  My tail lashes from side to side as I sit down and it catches in the waxed cloth and bedding that forms the floor of our temporary home.  It looks like we're on our own.

  "I think I know where we are."  Fallingstar's voice floats through the parted tent flaps and I prick up my dark coloured ear tufts.  "It looks as if we've been blown up along the same route that Treyvan and Hydona were going to take."

  "What?!"  I gape my beak open and stare at the far wall of the tent in shock.  Treyvan and Hydona are both gryphons and experienced Silvers— they left White Gryphon almost a year ago after the Star-Eyed made herself rather… clear… to several of the city's shamans.  Essentially, she told us that it was time to head back up into the lands we had thought destroyed by the Cataclysm and go say _zhaai hileeva_ to our cousins.

  The arguments about that particular revelation— that we weren't the only Kaled'a'in… or rather we _were_ but there were these folks called the Tayledras and the Shin'a'in who looked remarkably like our humans and had a pretty similar pair of languages and so on— kicked up an argument that could probably be heard all the way down in Khimbata.

  As a result, Treyvan and Hydona offered to be a sort of advance scouting party; they would go and make contact with some of these cousins and sound them out, so to speak.  Because of the great distance they travelled, reports back from them were sketchy and infrequent but, as a Clan, we managed to find out that the Tayledras were the most similar to us— they even had a prevalence of the long-lost Bondbirds, and the Shin'a'in seemed to have formed from the Kaled'a'in Clans who were most involved with the Changed horses— and they set themselves up in residence near to a Tayledras Clan home on the edge of the crater that had once been the Kaled'a'in lands.

  Lots of excitement really.

  And now _we_ appear to be in a similar position, albeit very accidentally.  _Oh joy._  The thought flits across my mind as Fallingstar continues chattering on about local foliage and such forth.  _I guess I'm glad now that I paid attention in our languages classes…_   Oh, yes, the Star-Eyed also saw fit to Gift a few of the Shamans with a basic understanding of the Shin'a'in and Tayledras tongues— they have drifted from they original Kaled'a'in base in distinct and interesting fashions.  There is still enough similarity that a Tayledras or a Shin'a'in could make out the general _gist_ of what someone from k'Leshya was saying.

  I don't know about Fallingstar, however _I_ certainly feel more comfortable knowing that I can shout "Don't shoot!" and be reliably understood, but then I'm funny about things like that.  Fallingstar has his bits of rock and his maps and I have my pathological dislike of being a target.

  Oh, and a newfound dislike of all things cloudy, rainy and full of entirely too much wind.

  I clack my beak slightly as I survey the long distance teleson again in the unformed and vague hope that maybe it will magically fix itself if I stare at it long enough.  Not happening.

  _Humbug._

  Suddenly I become aware that Fallingstar's background mumble about trees and rocks has ground to an unceremonious halt and outside the tent is ominously quiet.  A cold feeling settles quickly in my belly and crop and I tense and freeze before reaching out a thin, thin tendril of Mindspeech to my fellow Silver.

  _:?:_

  Fallingstar acknowledge me.  _:Halli— I think we can safely say that we're very far north.:_

  _:Why?:_  I shoot back worriedly, vision of marauding bandits and long lost makaar dancing across my imagination.

  Fallingstar's voice sounding from outside the tent answer my question indirectly:  "Zhaai hileeva," as do my sharp sense which indicate that there are two humans outside… and one smells of raptor musk and the forest.

  I think the Tayledras have found us then.

~~~~~

Yes, 'tis I!  She who procrastinates frequently~!  So, something new from me, and look, no Companions and practically no angst… what a rarity *laughs* ^-^  This is just an introduction type to set up the storyline… this was originally going to be a one-shot, but Halli had different ideas… Apologies for the non-updating of _Grass is Greener_, or _Can't Catch Me_, but I'm afraid that this particular writer couldn't concentrate on one project if the fate of the world depended on it… eheh… ^-^


	2. The Tayledras for 'Don't Shoot'

**Disclaimer:**  Any and all recognisable concepts relating to the world of Velgarth and all it's environs and contained ideas such as the Tayledras, Shin'a'in and Kaled'a'in, the Empire of the Haighli Black Kings, the city of White Gryphon, Bondbirds and so on and so forth, are the sole property of the author Mercedes Lackey.  I'm not her, I'm merely Careless Whilst In Possession Of An Overactive Imagination.

**Notes:**  I forgot to mention this last chapter and there seems to be a bit of confusion so; this is set at the same time as the _Winds_ trilogy… hence the references to Treyvan and Hydona flying north in the first chapter.  Halli and Fallingstar have been blown into Tayledras lands by a storm- currently I have no plans for them to meet up with Treyvan, Hydona or anyone else from the _Winds_ books.  I like making up my own alters.

**Chapter Two- The Tayledras for "Don't Shoot!"**

  These Tayledras chaps look remarkably like our k'Leshya humans you know.  I've managed to make it outside the tent and am currently sitting calmly and collectedly beside my scouting partner, Fallingstar.  Across the fire from us is one of the aforementioned Tayledras, a lad who looks about twenty and goes by the name of Frostfire k'Shona.  He's still looking rather bemused— he _had_ thought that Fallingstar was Tayledras from one of the other Clans apparently _despite _Fallingstar's pronounced Kaled'a'in accent— and had been rather curiously asking him questions about the basket (how in the Star-Eyed's name had he moved it?), how he'd ended up here (what do you mean 'flew'?) and other such delights until I poked my beak out the tent flap and said _zhaai helliva_ with a much more convincing accent.

  Frostfire recognised me— as did _his_ companion and apparent mount, a dyheli doe called Tarragon— as a gryphon and I think that's what is making the pair of them ever so slightly awe-struck.  Apparently I'm the only gryphon ever to be seen by a member of k'Shona— apart from one of the Clan Elders who has recently returned from a trip to the northern Clans and spent at the home of k'Sheyna.

  It seems that k'Sheyna has a pair of gryphons living next door to them so to speak… I can't believe that Treyvan and Hydona went _that_ far north, although apparently k'Sheyna is also playing host to some weird Outlanders from even _further_ north as well.  It boggles the mind really.

  "You really _are_ Kaled'a'in?"  That is Frostfire, who is switching piercing blue eyes between Fallingstar and myself.  Frostfire has blue eyes and silver roots to his dyed hair— which indicates exposure to strong magic and yet I can't sense a Mage Gift in him, which is odd to say the least.

  "Indeed," I reply with faint amusement, "Hallirrran Sarrrikae kena Lesshya of the Kaled'a'in sscity of White Grryphon, if you want to get piicky."  As I finish reciting my name, I drop my beak open in a gryphon grin and exchange a look with Fallingstar who rolls his eyes at me.

  "Halli takes some getting used to, especially if you've gryphons not seen before."  He remarks in pretty good Tayledras, before obviously stretching and leaning back against my side.

  "Tccah, no more than yoou, Fallingsstarr."  I remark good naturedly.

  _:I wouldn't worry about Frostfire's silly questions,:_ I look over at the dyheli, who seems to have the unflappable aplomb that most of the k'Leshya herd project, _:besides, the whole Council will probably want to ask you exactly the same things so we may as well try to limit the repetitions.:_  That last is said with a significant mental nudge to Frostfire who starts slightly and stops staring at us.

  "Oh, yes!  Of course— the whole Clan and the Council will want to meet you and—"

  "Assk lotss of quesstionss?"  I clack my beak in a meditative fashion and eye up the young Tayledras quietly.  For his part, Frostfire flushes slightly as he stumbles to his feet and coughs with apparent embarrassment.

  "Uh, well… you're the first gryphon most of them will have met and besides, we only found out about you— uh, the Kaled'a'in a half dozen moons ago."  He explains rapidly, causing Fallingstar to squint in concentration as he mentally deciphers the meaning behind the words.

  Someone should have paid more attention to his language lessons, shouldn't he?  I let my partner feel a brief flash of amusement from myself and he sighs in response and replies with a slight mental spark— the Mindspeech equivalent of a friendly swat, before levering himself up using my flank as a base point and gaining his own feet.

  "I guess the camp we pack up then?"  He asks rhetorically in his lilting version of Firefrost's language, before shaking his head and giving a long suffering sigh.

  "I only just got it all set up!"  He turns and complains at me in our own tongue, before stalking— in a bruised limping sort of fashion— over to the pile of kit next to our tent and beginning to organise it back into the correct canvas packs.

  I stretch and flip my wings to settle the feathers before wandering over to join Fallingstar, closely followed by an intensely curious Tayledras.  "Can I help at all?"  He says, craning his head to stare in fascination as Fallingstar rolls up our maps and slots them back in their carry case, before stuffing the reinforced tube into his personal backpack.

  "Sssa," I nod my head, "Emptying ourr thingss frrrom the tent would be helpful."  I wave one fore claw in the direction of the dome-shaped structure.  "Jusst put it outside in a pile and wee can ssorrt it out from therrre."

  As the two men busy themselves, I concentrate on collecting up and burying the debris from our meal, and then swapping places with Fallingstar, loading our now full packs into our slightly battered carry basket whilst he checks the campsite and puts out the fire by piling wet loam over it.

  "Um," the voice is slightly confused, and I pause in using my beak and both claws to secure the basket's pack ties to regard Frostfire.  "This is the last of it—" he mutely holds up the soft leather and dulled metal that makes up my basket harness and I bob my head.

  "That iss mine," I tell him, "there should alsso be rropess, yess?  Get them alsso and lay them all herre," I indicate a space next to the basket with a hind foot and walk over towards the now empty tent.

  I nose aside one of the flaps and check that the tent is indeed empty, which it is and quickly withdraw before applying the brief touch of magic needed to activate the folding spell anchored in it's fabric.  I watch with pleasure as the tent proceeds to folds itself up _far_ more neatly than I could ever have managed and twitch an ear tuft in amusement as I catch sounds of jingling and creaking, indicating that Fallingstar is checking and laying out the harness and basket lines.

  "What _is_ all this?"  I pick up the packet that the tent now is with my beak and one fore claw and hobble my way towards the basket.  With my mouth full, it's up to Fallingstar to answer Frostfire's question.

  "Lines, the basket for, and harness for Halli."  He shoots a wicked look at me.  "Great gryphon she is, not enough to carry this all in claws, however!"

  I snort and drop the tent.  "Ssilly human," I reply in a superior tone of voice.  I turn my attention to the young Tayledras.  "What he ssaid, the firrsst parrt anyway; my flight harrrness and linesss to the basket so that poorrr Fallingsstarr issn't left behind when we sscout."

  "Oh," Frostfire looks up at me and blinks.

  "That in basket, you put, yes?"  Fallingstar addresses Frostfire as he prods the deserted tent with one toe.  "Halliran, I have to help now."

  Long practice makes the task of wiggling myself into my flight harness short work, and Fallingstar is quick and efficient at checking all of the buckles and joints, as well as arranging the harness correctly around my wings.  "Ssa, it will do," I assure him and pace across to the far side of the clearing to begin my warm up exercises as Fallingstar shows Frostfire how to tie the tent down into the basket and to attach the lines to the basket in the correct order.

  _:This is all very impressive,:_ I pause at the height of a stretch up on my hind legs and cock my head sideways in the direction of Tarragon.  The dyheli doe nods towards the carry basket.  _:Your methods and equipment.  I can't see, how you are going to be able to lift all of that weight, though.:_

_  :Not just equipment.:_  I reply in Mindspeech, _:the not unconsiderable weight of my scout partner as well; Fallingstar will also be in the carry basket.:_  I complete the stretch and move into the next set of exercises, extending my wings until the tips of my primary feathers are spread wide and then beginning down strokes of varying strength as my claws grip into the mossy forest floor.

  Tarragon wrinkles her nose and squints slightly as I whip up my own personal wind and send loose bits of dirt scattering around.  _:I confess to being even more confused then,:_ she admits.  Over the sounds I am making, I can hear Frostfire exclaiming something to Fallingstar, but I can't make out what.

  _:He thinks you're very impressive, silly bird.:_  The thought arrives in my head courtesy of a certain Kaled'a'in and I respond by posing _ever_ so slightly.  I am a gorgeous gryphon, after all.

  _:Magic,:_ I say succinctly to the dyheli, _:there's a spell on the carry basket that negates weight but not mass— which means that it's incredibly easy to lift, but still something of an effort to tow around.:_

_  :Ah…:_ she shifts her weight from hoof to hoof.  _:The Vale mages will be crawling all over that to ferret out it's secrets, I warn you now.:_

  Wonderful.  All roll up for the amazing travelling Kaled'a'in sideshow, complete with rare and unusual feats of magic!

  I think Tarragon catches some of the edge of my rather black edged thoughts as she snorts with the dyheli equivalent of amusement and adds a further comment.  _:I think that you're large and intimidating looking enough to keep them in check, however.:_  Grand.

  I fold my wings against my side and twitch my tail from side to side slowly as I stare at the dyheli for a moment, before turning my attention back to the humans across the clearing from us.  Fallingstar, with Frostfire's help has the lines all secured to the carry basket and laid out neatly along the ground, just waiting for your truly.  The Tayledras scout is gazing wide-eyed at me— apparently gryphon acrobatic warm ups are interesting to him— and Fallingstar is ignoring me as he rummages for something in the basket, bending down next to the woven wicker structure which comes up to his waist.

  "Well, _I'm_ rready," I stroll over towards the basket and sit near to my end of the clip ropes.  "Come on Fallingsstarr, let uss go meet this Vale of Frrosstfirre'ss."

  "Hmm," oh, it looks like he's back to being He Who Grunts.  A quiet exclamation and a final struggle with something in a pack and Fallingstar straightens up with both of our personal teleson bands in his hands.  Making his way carefully over the laid out ropes to me, he hands me the larger of the dulled metal headsets, which I adjust to fit snugly against my head and Fallingstar does the same with his before reaching down to begin hooking the basket lines up to my flight harness.

  "Ssa, we might have a problem, though," I glance from Frostfire to Tarragon.  "Neither of usss know where this 'Vale' of yourrss _iss_, and I'm not surre that either of you could give arrriel dirrectionss to me?"

  Tarragon shakes her head.  _:I know I couldn't.:_

  "Uh,"  Frostfire coughs and holds up his right arm, which I now notice is covered entirely by a leather gauntlet.  A vague shiver just above my current Mindspeech range crawls past my head and I twitch both ear tufts.  "I have a Bondbird; this is Ziff—" a dark shape arrows through the upper canopy of the nearby trees and hones in on the young man's fist, revealing his until now absent bird to be a peregrine falcon— a female by her dark colouring.

  The bird returns my scrutiny with a wide-eyed gaze, and a high pitched Mindvoice echoes around my head.  _:Biiig bird!  Frostfire— big bird!:_

  Fallingstar finishes hooking the last of the lines up and steps towards Frostfire, eyes alight with fascination.  "All have Bondbirds, you?"  He asks as the falcon preens her wings and leans into the scratches that her Bondmate is giving her with his free hand.

  "No Ziff, this is Halliran, she's a gryphon—  From about the age of fourteen, yes; all Tayledras have Bondbirds," he explains.  "Could Ziff lead you?"

  "I don't sssee why not," I agree amicably, before standing up and looking expectantly at Fallingstar.

  Tarragon paces forwards to stand next to her scout partner and nudges him in the side with her nose.  _:I have a better idea, I shall run ahead and alert the Vale and _both_ you and Ziff can show Halliran the way—:_

  "What?"  Frostfire looks stunned and hangs his mouth open.

  _:Politics and diplomacy, my dear; I'm sure Fallingstar and Halliran will feel safer if they have a potential hostage; and it will certainly forestall silliness on the behalf of some of k'Shona's hotheads.:_  Tarragon explained.  _:I can also run faster without you, and I get the impression that gryphons fly _fast_.:_

  I gape my beak open in a gryphon-grin and snicker audibly.  "I ssupposse sso, although I won't admit that either myself orr Fallingsstarr _werren't _thinking anything of the ssorrrt."  I exchange a look with my partner.  "Bessidess, therre'ss nothing that can comparre to flying!"

  Fallingstar shakes his head.  "An experience, it would certainly be."  He puts in.  "Join us, will you?"

  A grin edges it's way onto Frostfire's face.  "If you really don't mind," he says in a diffident tone of voice, "I mean, I've shared Ziff's eyes but it's not really the same thing…"

  _:Go on—:_ Tarragon steps backwards and plants her nose into the small of Frostfire's back, shoving him bodily forwards, _:—I'll see you at the Vale entrance with a confused welcoming committee!:_  The doe wheels on her hind legs and launches herself off out of the clearing, her pale cream coat flashing in the light as she darts off.

  Frostfire casts his Bondbird up into the air and then approaches the carry-basket hesitantly.  "So… where do I fit?"  He asks.

  "One thing, first we must know; Mindspeech, have you?"  Fallingstar asks.  "In the air, hard to hear it will be.  Halli and I by Mindspeech will be talking— you can us, join?"

  "I— think so—"  Frostfire frowns.  _:Can you Hear me?:_

  _:Da, loud and clear.:_  I reply with a shake of my head.  _:Let's get moving now people!:_

  "Right, Halli is."  Fallingstar points out, "much as pains me, it does, to admit."

  "Tccah!"  I snort with derision.

  "Frostfire, you up the front get, yes?  Here between the packs and I behind you."  I stand up again and hum tunelessly to myself as I half listen to Fallingstar instruct the Tayledras scout on how to sit in a carry basket.  "—to this and this, you hold.  Very jerky and windy will be it, but sit rigid you must not, try to counter movements of basket as I will do; you should feel this."

  A creaking of wicker, plus the wonders of my extensive peripheral vision lets me know as Fallingstar settles himself in the rear of the basket, counter-balancing Frostfire's weight and I turn to face them and the basket.

  I spread my wings out halfway and shake them slightly.  _:I'm going to launch over you,:_ I warn them, _:So that I can make it up through the gap in the tree canopy without bashing you into too much in the way of tree branches.:_

_  :Thanks for that consideration Halli.:  _Fallingstar's sending has more than a shading of sarcasm, which I ignore as I flex my wings out fully and raise them high above my back, simultaneously crouching closer to the ground.

  _:Hold on—:_  I direct the thought primarily at Frostfire— Fallingstar should know the drill by now— as I leap forwards into the air and shove my wings downwards in a series of powerful launch strokes.  Flurries of gryphon-made wind and ash whip below me as I surge upwards quickly.  A slight jerk downwards on the harness announces the carry basket leaving the ground as I tow it skywards after me, heading for the now very close gap in the tree canopy.

  Over the howling of the crisp air and the startled explosion of sounds from the native animals that inhabit the treetops I can still hear Frostfire's delighted yell as he experiences gryphon flight for the first time.

  I point my beak to the clouds and scoop air under my wings, propelling my passengers and I higher above the ground, until the forest seems nothing more than an uninterrupted roll of textured green.

  An excited shrill of a raptor and I suddenly find myself being paced by a falcon that is also babbling away in open Mindspeech.  _:Bondmate fly!  Fly up with big-bird-Halliran, up in sky with Ziff!:_

_  :Well, your bird seems to like it, how about you?:_  My question is coloured yellow with amusement, that only increases as I receive an inarticulate burst of wonder and excitement back from Frostfire.

  I cant my wings slightly and smooth off into level flight, dipping my left wing and cupping it slightly to bring my around the face the same direction that Tarragon took along the forest floor.  _:Which way to this Vale of yours then?:_

  _:Uh—:_ I sense Frostfire pull himself together and feel the basket shift balance on the ropes slightly as he leans forward and looks around.  _:There!  The river, follow that and it's by the waterfall, on the western bank-side.:_

  I glance down and catch sight of the river running below us, like a shining silver river and sweep my wings forward, the edges of my primaries flashing in my peripheral vision.

  _:Right, I hope your Clan are up for a surprise,:_ I send with humour as I catch sight of a blur of white water vapour and grey rock a fair distance ahead.

  We should be descending on them in little more than a quarter mark…


	3. You Did What With Leylines!

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful author, Mercedes Lackey, owns any and all concepts relating to the world of Velgarth.  This includes the Kingdoms of Valdemar, Karse, Rethwellan, the Haighlei Empire, the city of White Gryphon and the assorted varied populations thereof.  I own the ability to procrastinate at the Olympic level and to ineffectually multi-task.

**Notes:  **Because I don't feel that it is odd to react to bad things with humour, this one is for Ant.  Sorry I couldn't help you kitten.

**Chapter Three- You Did _What_ With Leylines?**

  _:Agghhh!:_  I echo the Mind-spoken cry of pain and surprise with a vocal one.

  "Agghhh!"  The whistling coldness of the air rushing around us snatches the sounds from my beak as I involuntarily furl my wings and gravity reasserts its dominance over things.  Not surprisingly, the basket and myself begin to head downwards.  Very much downwards.  In fact, I appear to be heading downwards faster than the basket and am rapidly catching it up— out of the bottom of my blurred vision I can see Frostfire's cloud white face staring numbly upwards at me.  Fallingstar's face is bright red and he's yelling something, by the way his mouth is moving.

  _:Halliran!  Fly!:_  Fallingstar's command blasts through the shock and dancing spots that are currently filling my mind and I manage to snap my wings open, catching the air and sending a bone jarring set of vibrations through my entire self— something that is compounded by the basket wildly juddering around below me.  My tail lashes around in circles as I indulge in some panicked and pointless clawing of the air with all four legs.

  A high pitched shriek pierces the atmosphere and I suddenly have to contend with a insane falcon whipping around me in barely controlled acrobatics.  _:Bondmate fall!  Bondmate fall!  Bad Halli-big-bird!:_

  Over the sound of my energetic wing beats I can hear fervent cursing.  The Tayledras must be Frostfire, and the violent mix of Kaled'a'in and Haighlei can only be my scouting partner.  If the wind wasn't scattering their words, I definitely think that the varnish would be blistering off the wicker and wood of the carry basket.

  After a few long moments of frenzied activity I manage to stabilise myself, and the basket, and get us back onto a pretty even flight path… albeit one several lengths _below_ the level I was previously flying at.

  Um… oops?

  Fallingstar's Mindvoice is tight and flat.  _:What the _Hells_ just happened?:_

  That is a very good question.  What the Hells _did_ just happen?  I still have spots dancing in front of my eyes and the inside of my head feels like the Haighlei Royal Hunt just stampeded plains-bulls through it.

  _:I—:_ I manage.  I really should try to order my thoughts before trying to articulate them, shouldn't I?  _:I—Mage-sight… looking over at the waterfall—Frostfire's Vale—bright!:_

  Apparently, I've included the aforementioned Tayledras scout in my sending, as I feel him jerk to look up at me, the basket swinging forwards slightly, before Fallingstar moves his weight backwards in counter.  _:You have Mage-sight?:_  He sounds surprised.  There seems to be a whole bunch of that going around at the moment.

  _:I'm a mage-made creature,:_ I manage to point out with remarkable calmness, given the events of a few moments ago.  Let's get down to the point; _:What have your people done with the leylines?!:_  I even manage to keep the hysteria to a minimum at the end of that question.

  _:What?:_  You don't get any prizes for guessing how Fallingstar sounds.

  _:Ah—:_  Frostfire says at the same time, sounding genuinely puzzled.  I'm off on a little rant however…

  _:I used my Mage-sight to look at his home and I damn near got blinded!:  _I inform Fallingstar.  _:That's what in the Hells happened— they have a weather shield— and wards— and a bloody node that has _six_ lines running into it, but none coming out!  By all rights it should explode!  Bang!:_  My name is Halliran, and I came first in my class for diplomacy.  And reconnaissance.  Honest.

  _:That's the Heartstone—:_  The Tayledras man sounds slightly timid.  _:Um, all Vales have one; the mages could probably explain it better than me, but it's part of what makes us Tayledras…:_

  Right, make note:  Long lost cousins have tendency to meddle with node magic, also known as:  That Which Ye Should Not Meddle With.  How have they survived this long without the whole lot of them being turned into wee little piles of ash?  Thinking about it, don't answer that question… the possible answers are making my head ache.  More.

  _:Oh.:_  Well, I think Fallingstar has pretty much summed up both of our replies to that particular nugget of information.  Attention back on flying, I think.

  We are fast approaching the site of the waterfall, and I can just make out the slight light-refraction that marks the edges of the weather shield that appears to be erected over the whole 'Vale'.  Just looks like a lot of really big trees and a bit of a clearing around the waterfall's base to me.

  _:Where's the Vale Entrance that Tarragon mentioned?:_  I ask Frostfire as I scan the area closely.  There are a few clearings that look as if they have landing possibilities, but I don't want to commit to one until I'm sure that I'm not going to produce a grand landing, only to find that there is a distinct lack of appreciative and/or awed audience to stare at me.__

_  :Uh—:_  He leans forwards, hands gripping the front edge of the basket, and stares downwards, before pointing, _:there— the two big pine trees close together in amongst the golden oaks.:_

  I send back wordless assent and fix my eyes on the trees indicated.  There is indeed a clearing in 'front' of them that is large enough, for both myself and the carry basket, to land in.  I cant my wings back slightly, slowing my forwards motion and half fold my right wing, sending me into wide spiral.  I snort out thoughtfully, the warmth of my breath contrasting sharply with the cold of the air on my nares for a moment, as I stare down— assessing how to land.

  _:Hold on.:_  I send shortly and tighten my spiral, dropping lower faster, the basket below me creaking as the tension on the basket lines changes in a mirror to my movements.

  Ziff calls out and drops past me in a dive, flaring her wings as she reaches the level of the canopy and darting across the clearing— shapes rise from the trees as other birds join her.  I can make out several hawks, at least one owl and three corbies of some kind.  From their size, they can't be anything _but_ Bondbirds.

  The bright flashes of colour now apparent under the trees can only be our welcoming committee.  Our cousins on parade definitely rival Haighlei Court-wear— the clothing is of a strange cut that seems both familiar and exotic at the same time, and is in a riot of colours; each person's clothing harmonises perfectly with whatever else its owner I wearing, but there are some definite eye-burning moments when certain members of the group stand together.

  I continue dropping lower and they move out from under the shadows of the trees slightly; they all have magic bleached white hair.  Of course, given this 'Heartstone' thing they have in the middle of their home, that doesn't surprise me.

  _:Brace and lean backwards—:_ Fallingstar commands Frostfire, before leaning backwards himself; this tilts the balance of the basket towards my tail, so that the rear of it touches the ground first, before the rest of it settles on the loam.  I kite forwards slightly, the ropes coiling onto the ground behind me and abruptly flare my wings, pulling myself into an almost vertical position.

  One hind foot touches the earth, followed by the second one and I pose for a moment, wings outstretched, before dropping down to all fours and calmly furling my wings.  Behind me, I can hear my passengers climbing out of the basket— the slower one is Frostfire, I guess.

  My claws dig into the earth and I cock my head slightly to one side and stare at the 'welcoming committee'.  There are five of them; three men and two women… I think.  Long flowing robes and a penchant for yards of hair makes telling the sex of three of the group difficult.  The two with shorter hair— although clad in finery equal to that of their companions, all have the same wary alertness about their person that I recognise well from being a Silver.  Their costumes also have a more practical look to them… one that indicates that flounces and embellishments can be lost quickly and easily.

  _Hmm…_

  Fallingstar comes to a halt next to my right side and I catch his glance flicker in my direction before his conducts his own observation of Frostfire's people.

  _:Colourful bunch, aren't they?:_  I observe to my scout partner on a private level of Mindspeech.

  _:That they are, Halli.:_

  "Uh—"  The voice belongs to Frostfire and he semi hops in between the Tayledras and us.  "Elder Leafspear, zhai'helleva," with that he bobs his head to the oldest looking figure; a man dressed from head to foot in an elaborately layered costume that mimics bird feathers.  Except for the bright blue colours.

  The man addressed as Leafspear nods his head in return and breaks into a smile, his blue eyes glittering with amusement as he regards Frostfire.  "Zhai'helleva, scout Frostfire—" his gaze settles on myself and Fallingstar, "and to you also, I had not thought I would see another gryphon in my lifetime; especially not at my own Vale!"

  Fallingstar blinks.  _"Zhaai helliva,"_ he manages, unconsciously giving the Kaled'a'in form of the greeting.

  "Ass he ssaid, sszshai'helleva."  I add in what I hope to be a friendly tone of voice.  It certainly startles the Tayledras.  The faint tinkle of the ornaments and crystals braided into their hair fills the space between us.

  Leafspear's amusement deepens into a grin, and I respond by dropping my lower jaw in a gryph-grin of my own.  "I confess, I have not heard a gryphonic accent for a while," he admits.

  "Oh?"  Fallingstar asks, his posture alert.

  "Yes," Leafspear nods, "I was visiting one of our fellow Clans a while back and they have a pair of gryphons living near them…" The silent questions hangs in the air between us.

  "Imaagine thaat," I say blandly.  One advantage to being an unfamiliar non-human is that only Fallingstar can accurately read my facial expressions.

  The Tayledras Elder takes the hint and nods his head briefly.  "So, introductions; I am Adept Leafspear; this is Healer Sunstone—" he gestures as one of the obvious women, dressed all in earthy colours.

  "Wind to thy wings," she inclines her head towards us.  She has crows, three of them, sitting on her shoulders.

  "This is the Leader of the Day Scouts, Jadefox—" one of the shorter haired Tayledras nods, "—and the Leader of the Night Scouts, Silvermist."  The other short-haired human nods.  Jadefox is female, and dressed in mottled finery that looks like Frostfire's clothing, the same goes for Silvermist, except that he is male.

  That leaves the other two with long hair… the ones who I initially thought were male, but then couldn't really decide.  Leafspear continues introductions after Fallingstar and I have exchanged platitudes with the Scout Leaders.  "Master Darkrain and Adept Stormsong complete our little group."

  A tufted owl hoots and alights on Stormsong's raised fist.  "Bright the day," he sounds cheerful.  And male… definitely male.  The owl sidles up his arm until it is sitting comfortably on one of the padded shoulders of his grey and silver outfit— finery that is offset by the multitudes of silver chains woven into his long hair.

  "May I speak on behalf of us?"  Jadefox looks around at her fellows.  "I am most glad to extend the welcome of k'Shona Vale to you— to both of you, for as long as you wish to stay with us."

  I turn to Darkrain and covertly try to stare and work out his… her?… gender.  _:A him or a her?:_  I plaintively ask Fallingstar, after all he _is_ human too, sending him an impression of the Master.

  _:Male, silly bird.:_  My partner sounds amused.  Far too amused.

  _:Oh.:_  I manage as the hawks I spied from before make their presence known by indulging in a raucous set of calls as they chase each other around the group.  The pair of Scout Leaders sigh and give each other slightly exasperated looks. 

  I buzz of just-out-of-Hearing Mindspeech tickles at the back of my mind and then one of the birds breaks off, wheeling around to land on Silvermist's shoulder, chattering happily.  The other bird, deprived of it's playmate, squawks with derision and lefts up to a tree branch, where it commences staring at Jadefox.  Both birds looks almost identical— sun tail hawks, and from the slight downiness just apparent about the edges of their covert feathers and around their faces, I'd say recently fledged sun tail hawks; probably nest mates.  Which explains the game playing.

  Poor Tayledras having to put up with _that_ in your head all the time.  I know it's drive me mad.

  Fallingstar steps forwards slightly.  "For your kind greeting, thank you."  He starts in his slightly backwards Tayledras.  "And introductions of us, we should now make, eh?"

  The thin tendril of Mindspeech touches me.  _:How far do we go?:  _I sense that Fallingstar's attention is on me, despite him looking at, and clasping hands with the welcoming committee.  That is actually something that I was pondering on the flight over here— in between plummeting out of the sky like a stunned duck, of course.

  _:We may as well go the whole hog,:_ I say consideringly, _:I mean, Treyvan and Hydona are supposed to be letting slip the whole "k'Leshya" thing to _their_ local bunch of long-lost cousins… and it's not exactly like we can contact White Gryphon—:_ a brief picture of the box teleson and a sour snort.  A thought occurs to me, _:besides, I've already said k'Leshya to Frostfire, I don't think he picked up on it, though… not too much, at any rate.:_

_  :Too overawed by your gryphonic majesty.:_  The sarcastic reply arrives in my head and I stifle a chuckle.

  "So, Fallingstar k'Leshya of White Gryphon, I am."  He introduces himself.

  I raise my plumage slightly and rumble slightly in my chest to gather attention.  "I am Hallirran Sarrikae k'Leshya, Ssilver Grryphon Sscout."  I announce with aplomb, eyes glittering wickedly with amusement as the five Tayledras digest mine and Fallingstar's words and their expressions uniformly move towards shock.

  _:Hello again,:_ The female Mindvoice is accompanied by a mental wave and I twitch an ear tuft before blinking at Tarragon.

  _:Bright skies to you Tarragon.:_  I reply.  _:I see we've managed the shock factor you were anticipating,:_ I nod at the mages and scouts.

  The dyheli doe produces a creditable laugh.  _:I can see!:_  She shakes her head and paces forwards.  _:King Stag Dirrkin has sent me to tell you that the hertasi are in a positive frenzy of pre-party planning, and, if you please, could you all retire to the meadow so that they can complete preparations.:_

  It sounds more like an order than a question and this time, I can sense Fallingstar stifling a laugh.

  Leafspear nods, "Of course, if you would care to come with us?"  He pauses delicately and eyes both Fallingstar and myself.  Belatedly I realise that I am still in my harness and hooked up to the basket.

  I cough slightly and nudge my partner.  "If yoou would jusst give uss a moment."  I reply to Leafspear as Fallingstar blinks and looks over at me.

  _"Whole lot off and into the basket and let's sort it out later?"_  He looks over at me and asks in our native tongue and bob my head.

  _"Oh, yess,"_ I reply fervently, also in Kaled'a'in.  _"I have had enough of rrropess and harnesssesss."_  I wiggle from side to side as Fallingstar quickly snaps open the locking clips and catches on my harness, and step out of it as the whole lot pools onto the ground in a tangle of soft leather and dulled metal.

  We both stare at it, ignoring the avidly interested expressions on the faces of the Tayledras around us as they listen to our conversation.  It must be strange for them to here something like their language… but not.

  _"That—"_ Fallingstar pokes the harness with one toe, _"is going to take _forever_ to sort out Halliran."_  He sighs.

  I flatten my ear tufts slightly.  _"You're right…"_ I admit grudgingly.  _"At least it'll keep you're fingers supple!"_  I gape my beak open in a grin at his unimpressed expression.  _"I know, I know; Not Funny Halliran."_  I lump the mess of harness into a rough bundle and manage to pick it up in one fore claw and my beak, before walking the few lengths to the basket and dumping it on top of our packs.  Fallingstar doesn't answer me and instead follows behind gathering up the rapidly tangling basket lines and shoving them after the harness.

  "All done!"  I exclaim brightly in Tayledras and pace over towards Leafspear and the other Tayledras.  I can sense Fallingstar behind me.  He could well be muttering.

  Frostfire speaks up for the first time in a while.  "Are you just leaving your basket here?"  He asks.

  Fallingstar stops muttering at the back of my head for long enough to shrug.  "Apparently," he says, shooting me a look.  His expression clears slightly as he addresses the group in his careful Tayledras.  "Unless you have someone free to the basket, move?"

  Adept Stormsong and his owl fix the basket with identical looks.  "I'm sure that the hertasi would be happy to move your basket for you… but I don't see how even five of them could lift that thing."

  I turn from Leafspear and raise my crest in amusement.  "Ahh, but that isss ourr _magic _basssket," I tell him.  "It hass a sspell on it, one I did myself."

  "Oh?"  Stormsong, as do the others—mages or no— gain even more interested expressions at my nugget of information. 

  "Daa, spell that we usse in White Grryphon all the time; it leavesss thingss with their masss, but negatesss their weight."  Maybe a hint of pride creeps into my voice.  Maybe.  I twitch my tail from side to side and Leafspear takes the hint, stepping forwards to lead the way into his home.

  I glance sideways at the fascinated mages who now look as if they want to stay and poke our carry basket for the rest of the day.  "I sshall sshow you the sspell laterr," I promise.  "But now, I would like to sssee yourr Vale I think."

  Fallingstar rolls his eyes at me.  _:Overdoing the 'mysterious magic creature' part aren't you?:_

_  :Not at all,:_ I assert as The two Scout Leaders fall into step beside Fallingstar, and I find myself walking next to Stormsong and the others who were introduced as mages.

  We exchange pleasantries and walk towards the two huge trees and the faint shimmer of a weather shield that mark the entrance to k'Shona Vale.

  Even from out here, utterly confusing Heartstones aside, it looks entirely alien from everything I've called 'home' for all of my life. 


End file.
